


When a Devil Rises...

by CuddleMeister



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Anal Sex, Catharsis, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fire Emblem: Awakening Spoilers, I wanted Grima so badly, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Very Upset, I'm sorry I did this to everyone, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Necrophilia, Light Bondage, M/M, Mind Games, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Teasing, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Triggers, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-03-24 05:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13803957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddleMeister/pseuds/CuddleMeister
Summary: "Do not think for a moment that I am your ally," the 'Hero' breathed, his voice slinking and serpentine. "I simply wish to possess better control of this body. But, for confusion's sake, you will address me as Grima." While it was clear he addressed the Askran royalty and his summoner, once his scarlet gaze had settled upon Robin, his pupils never once flickered. If only his mouth hid a forked tongue, it would be lulling about to taste the air as he spoke. "Just Grima."A trio of one-shots made to cope with the loss of my hopes and dreams of summoning FH! Robin.





	1. ...A Nightmare Occurs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm not proud of this. Please forgive me, you who seem curious about this fic. I didn't want to make it anything near non-con, but Grima doesn't seem the type to ask permission, so I hope the tags were successfully able to fend off people who might be triggered by this work.  
>  Again, I am a heap of garbage for making this, but here it is. Here is the product of mourning for me wasting nearly 200 orbs in hopes that I would summon Grima.  
>   
> Alternative Chapter Title: Grima Reconnects with Himself  
>   
> Side note: " ~* " will here indicate a sudden break in perspective, as I felt the line break might be too powerful in this chapter.

Robin was one of the few Heroes who always came to greet the newcomers each time Kiran finished a summoning session. Of course Alfonse, Sharena, and Anna were also usually present; after all, who else would help introduce the new Heroes to Askr and reacquaint them with any previously existing allies? (t was important to push all Heroes to work together, regardless of origin or background, but Anna knew as the number of troops grew that grouping allies with their familiars was a boon to help them settle into their new environment (Henry, for example, was literally _beside himself_ when Kiran summoned a version of himself caught in the middle of the Ylissan harvest festival). Still, a warm welcome was always the most effective first impression that Robin ever knew to bring a new Hero at ease. He had received one when he was first introduced to the Shepherds back in Ylisse, and he planned to help spread the good wishes. Plus, Robin knew how taxing it was for his fellow tactician to convince a new Hero to stay after they were summoned, and wanted to do all he could to help.

Life around Castle Askr had grown quiet as of late. New Heroes had proven a bit few and far between, which wasn't necessarily a problem, but the lack of the need to accommodate anyone new had led to small lulls in the army's productivity. Robin had to admit, even he was caught up in the lulls, at times. Suffering from amnesia whilst in Ylisse was bad enough, but being summoned to a new realm where he yet again knew _no one_ made it difficult to connect with his fellow Heroes on more than the level of perhaps an acquaintance.

It even grew...lonely, sometimes. He had grown quite fond of Miriel when the Shepherds were travelling to Regna Ferox, watching her as she conducted surprisingly complex experiments on his item pouch, listening to her recite theories with a vocabulary that often flew clean over his head. He had even made plans to invite her to tea one evening, maybe even reveal to her the ring he kept inside that pouch, until he was summoned. Many Shepherds gradually joined him in Askr, but she had so far not been one of them. He nowadays grew to shamefully fancy...his captain. Though they were summoned during the same session, Chrom had taken the summoning worse than he had, mourning his separation from Sumia upon leaving her gravely injured during a skirmish. He had begun shutting out the support of some of his comrades, but somehow Robin had grown closer to him as a result. The two had never been too intimate, only ever having spooned or kissed each other on the dark nights in the Shepherds' barracks. Robin didn't know if he would ever go farther with the prince, but admitted that it had...crossed his mind.

The summoning session's audience was small today. Fjorm and Gunnthrá were away on a mission with Marth to calm a new tempest threatening the World of Blazing, and even Anna had found herself busy with organizing the space in the Castle for the existing Heroes. Only Robin, Alfonse, Sharena, and Tiki were in attendance when Kiran entered the castle and sheepishly greeted the two royals, wringing her hands. Sharena tilted her head at the summoner with curiosity, and Alfonse stood silently, his gait growing rigid and his hand creeping instinctively toward his Fólkvangr. It was strange...an aura of unease seemed to waft through the castle like a stench as Kiran said nothing, only glancing nervously over her shoulder at the door. Robin glanced at Tiki, who traded his gaze with a pinched brow and a focused glimmer in her eye. Robin swallowed as he pulled away from her stare - she felt it too, then.

"Nothing new today, Kiran?" Alfonse asked warily. His hand was still inching toward the hilt of his blade. Kiran was silent for a moment, and as that moment dragged along, the unease grew, slowly becoming gloom and shadow. Robin felt his breath come shorter - something wasn't right. Something was in fact quite _wrong_. Finally, Kiran finally spoke, a whisper that somehow still echoed off the stone walls of the castle.

"There is one new Hero," Kiran said, her eyes unreadable beneath her hood. "Though...I don't know if 'Hero' would be a fitting description."

As if on cue, the doors of the castle opened once more, and the new 'Hero' stepped inside. With him came a wash of what resembled night time, but nothing so pure as the absence of the sun. It was more of an absence of life - the brilliant torches adorning the walls of the great hall paled, the flames seemed to sour into a pasty grey, and the grand cobalt blue of the roll out carpet seemed to burn to a black crisp in an instant. The very air was drawn from Robin's lungs as he took in the man's aura, a sickening contortion of the air the color of menace whose pungent odor was rife with power.

None of these details particularly bothered Robin, much to his surprise. What shook him to his core was the new Hero's appearance. It was him...or, at least, his twin, but not in the way that Tharja's winter festival doppelgänger shared her own bodily features. His ivory hair, hooded Plegian overcoat, the three all-seeing eyes of the fell dragon running along each sleeve of the coat like violet tears, slender-fingered leather gauntlets that likely held a cursed brand on the back of one of the palms, he shared everything with Robin. He was _him_!

"Alfonse, Sharena...everyone, please meet...err, Robin?" Kiran spoke with a flicker of the eye in the tactician's direction. "Or, well...still technically Robin, but...not completely in a sound state of mind? I'm not sure...but he's different than Robin."

'Robin' strode across the burning/normal/blue/grey-black carpet toward the Askran siblings with little regard to his summoner, who had darted to the side to watch him, not daring to let him from her sight. Alfonse and Sharena were glued where they stood, ghostly expressions hovering on their faces. Next to Robin, Tiki was wrapping careful fingers around her dragonstone. Robin wondered what she thought, seeing this dark being, soaked in raw energy and regarding everyone in the great hall with the indifference that one might express when they watch ants.

Everyone except for _Robin_. 

"Do not think for a moment that I am your ally," the 'Hero' breathed, his voice slinking and serpentine. "I simply wish to possess better control of this body. But, for confusion's sake, you will address me as Grima." While it was clear he addressed the Askran royalty and his summoner, once his scarlet gaze had settled upon Robin, his pupils never once flickered. If only his mouth hid a forked tongue, it would be lulling about to taste the air as he spoke. "Just Grima."

Wait. _Grima!?_ The fell dragon Grima? The object of reverence and worship under Plegia's dictatorship? The treacherous beast that Chrom and the Shepherds were working so hard toward defeating so they could save Lucina's timeline and prevent chaos and destruction in Ylisse? _It couldn't be_. Yes, Robin was...aware, at least in part, of his role as an alleged vessel for Grima, but when Robin was first summoned to Askr, the Shepherds back home were far from the fell dragon's clutches. Yet, here he was...

Robin hazarded a glance at the "Hero" as uneasy presentations were made between him and the Askran siblings, and immediately the tactician regretted his decision. Grima's eyes bore through him, considering him, nearly tasting him with curious and tempted red irises. Everyone else was also drawn to Robin, their eyes darting back and forth between him and Grima, comparing the two. Robin tried to ignore the many sets of prying gazes, including Grima's, in an attempt to help carry along introductions for the "Hero." It made him feel queasy, the very thought of this...this _demon_ working alongside the other Heroes. He simply hoped that Kiran would not be grouping the two of them together any time soon.

 

* * *

 

The day progressed uneventfully, a fact that both relieved and concerned Robin. It relieved him because that meant the other Heroes were not currently in an uproar from their newest addition. It took quite some time, for example, for Alm to accept Berkut when Kiran first gained him during a Grand hero Battle, believing he would only cause destruction and betrayal amongst the troops. Of course, while Berkut was still fussy when it came to commands, he now pulled at least some of his weight. The lack of gossip concerned Robin, however, because he feared it meant Kiran had not yet formally introduced Grima to the other troops. After all, Berkut may have been mad with power, but he was still just a man. Grima, however, was a vessel, had unimaginable powers locked away within him, waiting to be tapped, exposed, _used_.

Robin slipped outside on his way to the wing of the castle with the barracks designated for Ylisse's many Heroes, hoping some fresh air would clear his mind as he walked. He hadn't had a chance to speak to any of the Shepherds after the summoning session, save for Tiki, and she had simply tightened her hand around her dragonstone as a response to any of his questions. He wondered if she even saw him as a human anymore, after having witnessed that beast as he entered the castle, after having sensed his power, after having seen the resemblance between them.

Askr was on the cusp of spring, yet a bitter chill struck Robin's face as he passed through the castle gardens, filling his lungs and heart with ice and making him beg to the gods that at least one or two of his comrades would be awake and willing to help console him so he didn't dream of himself - no, of _Grima_ \- tonight. Perhaps Chrom would be able to put his mind at ease. Besides, Kiran had been making use of their respective strengths in completely difference spectrums of battle as of late, separating the two into teams that rarely saw each other on the battlefield. It would be nice to catch up, enjoy some leisure for old times' sake.

A rustle in the artfully sheered shrubs behind him wrestled his thoughts to the present. He glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to see a rabbit scrounging for dinner, but instead caught a glimpse of...himself!? _No_ , he reminded himself again, _that gods damned dragon_.  Robin wheeled around and stopped, immediately reaching for his tome. Except...malicious combat between Heroes was forbidden in Askr. Both Robin and Grima would be breaking the rules and severely punished for their actions. Regardless, Robin kept his hand close to his tome. He refused be caught off guard if he was attacked. Grima, in the meantime, simply tilted his chin to where he could look down at the tactician, despite their identical height.

"As if you could harm _me_ with that pitiful spellbook," he spat, his eyes narrowing as he took a step forward.

"What do you want?" Robin demanded. The fell dragon clicked his tongue.

"Stay your hand, I mean you no harm...yet." Grima circled Robin slowly, visually drinking him in like a butcher would scrutinize a prime cut. "I am examining you."

"Again, what do you _want?_ " Robin repeated, attempting to keep the sudden hint of threat out of his voice. The fell dragon remained silent as he took his time lapping around the tactician. Robin was about to repeat himself a third time, until Grima stopped in front of him, mouth dipping into a frown and eyes flashing dangerously. Oh, how Robin's hand ached to retrieve his tome.

"Initially I wanted to merge with you," Grima finally growled. "Our combined powers would decimate the enemy, I feel. But, I do not think that is possible here...I'll simply have to wait until I return to our own world to become one with myself once more. Now, however," and Grima inched closer, closing in the space that Robin provided each time he backed away from the fell dragon, "I have a new task needing fulfillment."

Grima clutched Robin's chin between his fingers, and though the tactician made to bat the hand away, the hold on him remained. He gripped Grima's arm, trying in vain to force the hand from his face. The fell dragon said nothing, only burned Robin alive with the insatiable flames in his irises. "I need...release," Grima rumbled. "These cumbersome human emotions are quite vexing, yet...for now, I can do nothing but appease them, somehow. And here you are." Grima twisted the tactician's jaw as he forced the man's head toward him, and hooked a thumb into his mouth to work his teeth apart and coax along his tongue with his gloved digit. "Such an eager object for me to use."

Robin continued to struggle against the fell dragon's grip, worry rising in his core as the being's other hand met his shoulder and began to press down, pushing him first forward, then onto his knees, pain and shock shooting through his nerves as his knees hit cobblestone. With the leverage of height, Grima was able to more securely hook his gloved thumb into Robin's mouth. The tactician suppressed a dry heave at the taste of the leather on his tongue. It was tinged with the sweat and blood of gods knew how many innocent lives, and a trace of something toxic that Robin feared may have been remnants of the dragon's archaic forces.

"Go ahead," Grima cooed, sinking his fingers into Robin's shoulder before withdrawing the hand so he could unfasten his waist guard. "There are a number of actions you could take. You could bite down on my finger. You could head-butt my groin. I doubt that Plegia was so neglecting as to deny you the most basic of self defense techniques. You could subdue me at any point and escape, yet you falter. Do you also feel it, tactician...?" Grima's hand on his jaw forced Robin's head to tilt up so he could witness the look of curiosity on the fell dragon's features. "The desire for carnality...also plagues you?"

Robin held Grima's questioning expression. He was aware of the moisture brought about by the thumb digging into his mouth. Tears strained his vision from the effort it took not to retch from the repulsive taste of that leather. Drool leaked from the corner of his lips as the salivary glands beneath his tongue worked overtime. The fell dragon was right - he was making no indication to resist. He even knew what Grima planned to do as his waist guard and pouch fell to the ground, and yet he only sighed, pushing vapor up into the chill night air with his breath. He patiently waited for what he knew would come next, like a whore at a brothel.

Grima tugged at his breeches single-handedly until his erection finally prodded from inside. He pulled Robin by the jaw, urging him toward it, and only then did the tactician hesitate. His lips met the tip, but only through the influence of Grima's pull. The sensitive flesh was hot, throbbing with whatever the demon attached to it used for a pulse. The fell dragon's thumb finally pulled from Robin's mouth, and his fingers instead worked to brush away the tactician's limp hands that previously wrapped around his own arms, and threaded those fingers through Robin's pale locks in a way that, if the tactician didn't know better, seemed almost fond. Robin still knelt beneath him passively, neither resisting nor surrendering. Grima used that indifference in stride, then, and slid his cock into Robin's lithe mouth.

The warmth and salt that flooded Robin's taste buds drew him from a sort of daze, and he flashed the fell dragon a glare. Grima responded by gripping a wad of the tactician's hair, and began a gyrating rhythm of the hips so his length could slide between Robin's lips. Robin's hands scrambled about, pushing against the fell dragon's thighs, his pelvis, his moving hips in an attempt to free himself of the thrumming organ. The fell dragon merely sighed in pleasure, shoving more and more of his length inside of Robin until it struck the tactician's soft palate with every pump of his hips. Robin gagged helplessly, his eyes screwing shut and his lips curling into a snarl as he made to bite down on the organ, until Grima suddenly halted his movements.

"If you so much as _graze_ me with those teeth," he murmured, and Robin strained to look up as Grima reached with his free hand to retrieve something from inside of his top, "I will incinerate you." The hand returned, and dropped down to Robin's level so he could see that he brandished a dragonstone. Even in the lampless darkness, it glinted threateningly at the tactician as though a living being was trapped inside, waiting to burst forth at Grima's command. Robin winced, and even as the hips resumed their hungry thrust, he fought, attempting to turn his head this way or that, breathing hard through his nostrils as the humidity around his face began congesting his sinus cavity.

"Robin..."

A strained moan was hurled into the air from above, and Robin retched against the oncoming presence of pre-ejaculate emitting from the cock in his mouth. The sounds pouring from Grima's lips were growing so foul, and over time the hot skin of the fell dragon's length had become so smooth along his tongue. Was he not absolutely disgusted by his behavior? If so, why had his own length below him begun to thicken?

"Robin."

Grima hummed in amusement, seemingly reading his forbidden thoughts, and Robin cast an eye up in question, catching the maniacal curl of the fell dragon's lips. He shuddered.

 

~*

 

"Robin!"

Robin's eyes snapped open, and for a moment he struggled against the hands on each of his shoulders, pulling his tome from his coat and already beginning to mutter into existence the most powerful spell he had memorized from the book. As he glanced forward to cast his spell, however, he was snared in Chrom's alarmed expression, and the magic died around him in a coalesced wisp of lavender. 

"W-What happened?" he gasped, suddenly out of breath with the onslaught of adrenaline in his veins.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Chrom muttered, slowly helping Robin sit up. "You were passed out here in the walkway, and I...I feared the worst when you didn't answer my call."

With the prince's help, Robin climbed shakily to his feet. His mind was foggy, all but for the memory that still clung fresh inside him. He recalled the crooning words and warnings, the hypnotic rock of his head backward and forward with the hips that pressed against it, the savory heat on his tongue. It couldn't have been a dream, could it?

"Grima," he whispered, and Chrom stroked comfortingly at Robin's waist as he draped the tactician's arm over his shoulders and assisted him in walking back indoors.

"I know, I heard," Chrom sighed. "First thing tomorrow morning I'll try and find time to talk to Kiran, and ask that she separate him from the rest of the Ylissan troops. I fear that, even if he _does_ somehow behave, he'll only traumatize the Shepherds."

So word _had_ spread about Askr's newest 'Hero.' Robin hung his head and allowed Chrom to help guide him back to the Ylissan barracks, thankful for the affection of Chrom's stroking hand. A cough rose in his throat, and though he tried his best to stifle it, Chrom still paused to remove the flask from his hip and offer it to him.

"I hope you didn't catch a cold, being unconscious out there," Chrom fussed as Robin took a drank deep from the flask. He felt surprisingly parched, and swallowed each mouthful slowly as to help the dryness in his throat.

_But wait...his throat wasn't dry, was it? No...it was sore._

Robin flexed his throat in a particularly deep swallow, and shivered incredulously. It wasn't even sore. _It was raw._ Sickness washed over him, and he focused on keeping his feet beneath him as the barracks gradually came into view. Chrom patted his side gingerly.

"Would it bother you to ask Kiran tonight instead of tomorrow?" Robin groaned. 

"Robin...it's very late," Chrom insisted. "The only reason I'm up and about is because you were missing from the barracks after cerfew. You must've been out cold for a couple of hours. I'll see to it that Lissa checks you over before you sleep."

"No," Robin blurted, then more softly, "no...I just need to rest. I'm just not feeling okay."

Chrom seemed to examine something in the distance behind the castle walls, then he snorted. "Would it make you feel better if I...slept next to you tonight?"

In spite of himself, Robin's cheeks colored. The last time Chrom had slept next to him was when the winter festival was in full bloom. The holiday season and air of giving had weighed upon Robin's heart, so he feigned homesickness to convince Chrom to climb into bed with him one night. The two of them shared each other's company and body heat in the narrow space of a bunk, and Robin's heart had been full. It made Robin subconsciously smirk at such a memory.

"Yes...I think I would like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far, thank you.  
>   
> On a slightly lighter note: I plan to catch these when I proofread, but my apologies if I miss one of the many instances where my tablet autocorrected Grima's name to Trims. I actually began calling him Trims, I had grown so used to the change.  
>   
> Anyway, Google Chrom is next.


	2. ...A Prince Crumbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here I continue my regretful journey of recovering from the trauma that blasted Fallen Heroes Banner caused me. This time, Grima learns that there's more than one way to skin a cat.
> 
> Alternative chapter title: Grima Practices Acting

Chrom gave a polite knock, and waited as the sound of a careful pair of feet approached from behind the door. The door opened, revealing a disheveled Kiran. She was dressed, but otherwise unprepared to be up and about the castle. Her long, fiery locks, which typically lay neatly along her shoulders during the day, were currently tied messily behind her head, tangled from a night of tossing in her sleep. Dark bags weighed beneath her eyes, indicating that she had very recently awoken. _Silly summoner_ , Chrom thought. She must've gotten to bed quite late the previous evening. The summoner regarded him apologetically before motioning him to come into her chamber.

"Thank you for finding the time to come so early, Chrom," she said, threading a few hasty hands through her mop as she freed her low ponytail. "It's been such a hectic month and I'm still trying to play catch-up."

Chrom remained silent as the summoner spoke. They both knew that the hour wasn't nearly as early as Kiran made it seem - Chrom had made sure, in fact, that the Shepherds were awake to squeeze in a light training session before Kiran gave any orders for missions - but the prince couldn't deny that she had been worked to the bone over the last month, having helped coordinate the great Hero Fest among other events, so he could forgive her for her tardiness. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't pick at her.

"Is that why you've been sleeping in, Summoner?" he teased with a chuckle. Kiran paused in her preparation of coffee for them both to shoot him a sideways glare. The venom in that sapphire stare gave him pause, but he maintained the smile in his eyes. He would have never said anything so brusque to anyone else in the Heroes (save for appropriate members of the Shepherds, perhaps), but Kiran knew of his playful cynicism, despite the daggers in her eyes.

"How do you like your coffee, across your face or down your tunic?" the summoner countered, and Chrom couldn't help the laughter that erupted from him. He waited until Kiran's expression softened, and she gestured to one of the two armchairs situated on either side of the table she had prepared their coffee tray. The prince sat, gratefully (and cautiously) accepting the cup and saucer she offered him. He blew across the surface of the liquid and waited for her to pour her own cup.

"Right, then," Kiran sighed, collapsing ungracefully into her armchair. It was a wonder her coffee didn't spill everywhere. "You had something you wanted to bring up." Chrom's lips parted so he could answer, but before he could, she blurted, "Wait," and set her untouched cup back onto its saucer so she could settle her elbows on her knees and massage her index fingers into her temples. "Don't tell me - it's about Grima."

Chrom took a modest sip from his cup before arching his brows in surprise and saying, "How did you know?"

"I've spent enough time with the Shepherds to know this guy's pretty bad news," Kiran grumbled. "I've been trying to..." Kiran gestured with her hands as though she was solving a spherical puzzle, gathering her words carefully, "...explain to Alfonse and Sharena that he'll be handy on the battlefield, but that..." Those hands worked and motioned mindlessly, moving invisible boxes and winding nonexistent cables, to where Chrom began to wonder if she was less gathering her thoughts and more filtering her rambling thought trails through her fingertips. "It's hard to explain. He's useful here for fights, but inside the castle, he'll be bad for anyone to be around, especially you guys from Ylisse. The royals don't get it, though. They think this is a similar scenario to summoning someone like Lloyd, or Ursula, but it's not."

Chrom could only nod. He hadn't been in Askr long, and hadn't grown very familiar with his Lycian allies yet, when members of the Four Fangs began appearing in the castle. First came Ursula, then Jaffar, and finally Lloyd. Kiran had struggled to keep the peace with the different stances her allies took to the new additions. Nino, for example, was ecstatic to have such familiars joining the Heroes, whereas Eliwood and Lyn had immediately sought audience with the summoner to request she stop summoning from Lycia for a while, lest she summon Linus to complete the Four Fangs. Chrom couldn't contain the admiration he held for Kiran, always a great listener, always willing to search for a way to appease all parties, always trying to connect with her summoned Heroes, even if they were considered enemies in their worlds. Her decisions were wise, even if they were the hardest ones to make. Without her sense of balance and equality amongst Askr's troops, many Heroes would have died at the hands of their own allies, and Askr would have never stood a chance against Embla. In the end, Askr kept the three members of the Four Fangs, but Kiran agreed to wait to summon again, and Linus never joined the Heroes. Nino had wept for the loss of the Mad Dog and swore to never follow Kiran's orders again, but after many days of the summoner setting aside special time and effort to speak with her and offer her better tomes in exchange for completed missions, she finally came around.

"I'm aware of your ability to push down the walls of our allies," Chrom said into his cup. "And I don't doubt you'd be able to soften even the most evil person to at least perform well during missions. Grima, however, isn't a person. He's a demon, a dragon inside the hollow shell of a person. Bending him to your will would not provide the same results as other difficult Heroes. He would terrorize all, in and out of battle, and I beg you not let that happen."

"As if I don't already know all this," Kiran hissed, more to herself than to the prince. She hooked a finger around the handle of her forgotten coffee cup and slung it back, chugging all of its contents. Chrom hid a smile - Maribelle would have been appalled at her behavior. Her exhale was euphoric as the cup parted her lips. "So you want me to do something about it - I understand. But what do you want me to do?"

Chrom's cup came down onto his saucer sharply. "Please, send him back."

"And give Veronica a chance at all that raw power? Are you nuts!?"

"He's sure to cause just as much havoc in Embla as he would here. I've talked to Lucina. I've heard of the indifference he has to his victims when he craves destruction. Plus, you have five Falchions on your side. We could handle him if he were to turn on us as a Hero, but I'd much rather handle him as an enemy. That way I know the other allies would have our backs."

Kiran said nothing for a long moment, her head bowing and her eyes closing as she thought. Chrom continued to sip his coffee patiently. He knew the decision would be difficult to make, whatever that decision might be, but he trusted her judgment. She hadn't led the Heroes astray before, and he was sure she wouldn't begin to, now.

"Alright," she finally said, her voice nearly a whisper. "I'll have to talk it over with Alfonse and Sharena first, but...you're right. He needs to go." She refilled her cup, and it surprised Chrom how slowly she drank this time. "Mind, it won't be today. We got word from Fjorm and Gunnthrá this morning that the most recent Tempest has been quelled, so I'm expecting them back, soon. I'll talk to people, though. I'll try and make it happen."

Chrom nodded his thanks, failing to keep the relief and exasperation from his forced smile. He steered their conversation toward more pleasant matters, and gradually, with more caffeine and a tinge of troop gossip, both of their moods lightened. They took their time finishing the coffee Kiran had prepared, and by the time Chrom was standing to take his leave, the sun was well on its way across the sky. It wasn't late, by any means, but usually by this time of morning, Kiran had already directed her teams on various tasks. That being said, Chrom made his goodbyes cordially and promptly, knowing full well that if she didn't get a move on soon, Alfonse would hound her. Gods knew he had been in the same boots before, having had his fare share of groans from fussing at Vaike for his forgetfulness, and Stahl for his bottomless pit.

As Chrom exited the summoner's chamber and made for the Ylissan barracks, he couldn't help but smile to himself. Yes, he hated Kiran's situation, having to choose the lesser of two evils, but he felt sure that sending the fell dragon back would only benefit the Heroes. Besides, Kiran had never sent any Heroes home before - what was one exception in exchange for the lives of many? The prince shook his head. Robin would feel better, too, knowing that he was safe from...well, himself.

"Speaking of," Chrom muttered to himself as he caught a glimpse of a black and violet coat billowing around a corner. He followed, hoping the tactician would be walking at a more leisurely pace than himself. When he turned the corner and saw no sign of him, Chrom cupped a hand around his mouth.

"Oi, Robin," he called, continuing down the corridor. "I've got some good news!" There came no answer, and as Chrom made his way through the castle's labyrinth-like halls, he wondered if maybe Robin had gone into someone's chamber. He then noticed that few doors lined the walls in either direction, and furrowed his brows. Where could he have run off to? He stopped in the middle of the corridor after turning another corner and listened closely for footsteps, but heard no sound but for the faint clang of sparring swords in the training grounds outside. He sighed and continued toward his barracks. Perhaps the tactician had simply hurried off on some task. Kiran had leaned on him in the past for advice and assistance, so maybe he was doing her bidding once more.

Before Chrom could call out again, however, a boot struck his knee from behind, kicking it out from underneath him. As he crumbled into a kneel, his attacker descended upon him and pushed him prone onto his stomach, but not before wrapping an arm beneath his chin and hitching his breath in a choke hold. His arms floundered against the cold floor, inching for his sword. The hiss of steel against sheath was brief, however, as his attacker rested leg weight onto his arm. Chrom gurgled in pain as the bones in his arms strained against the weight. As his lungs failed him and he lost consciousness, he struggled to inhale the scent of brimstone, was blinded by black and violet fabric against his face, and managed to catch a hint of alabaster hair.

 

* * *

 

When Chrom awoke, he thought momentarily that it was already night. Allowing his thoughts to realign, however, he discovered that he was simply in the dungeons. He discovered that he was simply inside of a locked prison cell. He also discovered that his Falchion, sheath, and white buckles were simply removed from his torso and simply resting against the wall, _outside of his cell_. His wrists were bound behind him with rope in a knot tied with care and precision, but thankfully his ankles were free. Unfortunately, however, his gloves appeared missing, and he couldn't spot them with his sword. _Where were they?_ he wondered. Careful of his lack of arm balance, he stood, taking mental note of all the sore places on his body, and it was then that he heard a stirring outside of the periphery of his cell. 

"I knew you would eventually awaken," came a familiar voice, "but alas, your time asleep was long, and I have grown impatient. Leave it to an Ylissan Exalt to lower his guard when he most need remain wary." A man paced with masked leisure in front of Chrom's cell. It was...Robin? No, it couldn't be, not with that voice of superiority, and not with that hateful sneer.

"From my perspective, we've yet to see each other in person," Chrom spoke, inching toward the bars of his cell cautiously. "It's a true _displeasure_ to meet you, Grima."

The fell dragon spat into the prison cell. Chrom nearly started at the gesture, not just because it was done in revulsion, but also because Grima was actually salivating like a beast with fresh prey. He clutched at the bars separating the two of them, his tongue swiping across his lips obsessively. Gods _damn_ him, he had Robin's physical identity stolen, all the way up to the tuft of pale hair that always fell across his face and touched his nose whenever he was flustered. The only difference that gave away his persona, aside from his pompous air, was his eyes. Instead of Robin's vast expanses of wilderness, Grima's eyes reflected pools of magma. Grima was ensnaring Chrom with those mirrors of bubbling lava, and the prince couldn't help but drink deep from that sharp expression. The fell dragon was the first to break eye contact, uttering a growl as his head jerked to the side and he continued to pace.

"Idle conversation merely wastes valuable time," he rumbled, one of his hands fumbling inside of his coat. "This frail human shell has cursed me with insatiable carnal desires. The tactician was satisfactory, but only for a short time."

Chrom bit his tongue to keep from shouting in outrage. His toes curled in his boots to help keep him glued to the spot in front of the cell bars, to keep him from ramming the door with his shoulder. Instead, he snarled, "Just _what_ did you do to Robin? I swear, if you hurt him, I'll--"

"Save your swears. I dealt him no harm." Grima's hand withdrew from his coat, holding a hefty key. He slid the key into the lock on Chrom's cell door and turned it, pushing the door in and marveling at the dissipated wall between them with curiosity and mischief, like a child might observe flint struck against steel for the first time. The fell dragon crossed the threshold of the cell and sidled up to the prince, carelessly invading his personal space. "I merely filled his mouth with seed, and he passed out from excess stimulation. To my knowledge, he is fine, now...maybe even fulfilled." A smirk may have flashed across Grima's lips, but it was short-lived as his teeth suddenly bared, his eyes sank, and his brow twitched furiously. "I, however, am not. I need _more_. And you _will_ provide me with the satisfaction I crave."

"No, I won't," Chrom retorted, taking a step back from the fell dragon. "Especially not for a devil like you."

Chrom expected the fell dragon to erupt. He expected Grima to scream in argument, to force himself upon the prince. He even braced himself for a blow to the head, or stomach. What he did not expect was the day-to-night change in Grima's expression as the prince spoke. All the malice and threat drained from his face like the passing of a sickness. Grima's eyes softened, became so pleasant and lidded, and his mouth spread into a comforting grin. Chrom knew that face. It was Robin's consolation smile. It was the face that he used to comforted those close to him, and encouraged those who weren't. Chrom hung his head and focused on the leather of his boots. He could barely stand to see such a face of compassion such as Robin's cross the features of such a demon. Even as the fell dragon drew impossibly closer, even daring to clutch the prince's shoulders, Chrom simply closed his eyes. He would try, try to come up with a way to escape, if only Grima would give him a window of opportunity.

"Chrom," came Robin's voice, and Chrom's head shot up immediately. "Please, listen to me." The prince blanched at the face in front of his, dangerously close. He was confused. The voice and calming expression matched his dear tactician perfectly, and even his touch on Chrom's shoulders was chaste and familiar. Why, then, was the sight so _wrong_? Robin's eyes still bled with death and hatred, even in spite of the gentle words the man spoke. Chrom pulled at the hands on his shoulders in an attempt at stepping back, but the hands were firm. Not tight, not forceful, but firm.

"Listen to me," the alleged Robin repeated softly, and Chrom finally stilled. _Please, I need to hear that voice_. "Chrom, I've...always looked up to you, especially after having been summoned. I've felt such a special bond form with you." The fingers on Chrom's shoulders curled, and the alleged Robin's eyes fell for a moment into sorrow. It was sickening. "I've gotten to spend so much time with you here in Askr, and it's made me truly realize how much I care about you. It's simply been so difficult to express myself. Being stuck in this foreign realm, forced to fight alongside strange allies...these events have discouraged me from confessing my feelings." The alleged Robin managed to lock eyes with the prince, and Chrom's heart skipped a beat as he burned alive in the man's irises. "I... _need_ you."

"Robin," Chrom breathed, his core stirring.

"Chrom, I must have you. Would you...submit to me, if I took you?" The hands finally moved, shifting down his tunic lazily, counting each of his ribs as the fingers fell. Chrom shuddered, felt his abdominals tighten as buttons were undone and his tunic grew loose against his skin. "Forgive my boldness." Robin rarely glanced down as his hands invaded the space beneath Chrom's clothing, his touch lingering here and there as though he already _knew_ Chrom's body. That, combined with the restricted movement with his own hands bound behind him, conjured the occasional moan from the prince as his bottoms were carefully drawn from his hips. When Robin's hands began to circle around to the front of Chrom's pelvis, he stopped and offered a small curl of the lips, which he brought close enough to brush the prince's lips. "Would you kneel?"

Chrom sank to his knees obediently, swearing to himself for the raggedness he already heard in his breath. Robin circled around until he stood behind the prince, and the bending of shadows and the rustle of Plegian coat indicated that he joined Chrom in a kneel. Hands met him, one on the middle of his back and the other on his hip. The prince felt himself being tipped forward, and for a moment he resisted the push. The alleged Robin snorted quietly and leaned over him.

"Do you trust me?" he whispered.

Chrom craned his neck to see him. Under normal circumstances, the prince would never hesitate for a moment to trust Robin with his life. The man leaning against him, discreetly grinding a clothed and pronounced erection on his backside, stroking comforting circles on his hip...it...it wasn't Robin, right? It was still the fell dragon. It was still Grima, wasn't it? The bloody and eager glint in his gaze had to give that away, right? Chrom sighed. He honestly was no longer sure. And...even if it was Grima, the body hovering over his...technically was still Robin's, wasn't it? The hands on his body felt so familiar, felt so safe, even in the bowels of a dungeon. Chrom gradually relaxed his muscles, and the hands on him guided him, tilted him and rested him against the stone floor. The strain was minimal, though he did wish his hands were free, at least. Still, after some shifting, he settled and let the man's hands roam. He did...trust Robin, after all. He simply hoped he wouldn't regret his decision.

"What a good little prince," the fell dragon cooed. Fingers slid down Chrom's back until they curved over the round of his ass. There they stopped and spread Chrom open, and he gasped as a sudden wetness met his entrance. The fell dragon's mouth smothered against him, lapping up his essence and earning a gentle and embarrassing throb from Chrom's cock. Grima's tongue swiped and prodded hungrily, sliding inside of him and drawing a moan from Chrom's chest. He struggled against his binds, if only so he could better control the increasing arch of his back or the buck of his hips. Grima seemed to suck the very soul from his body, seemed to only press his tongue deeper and deeper inside of him, that by the time his lips parted and he was straightening up, Chrom was panting. He heard a chuckle and the shift of crinkling fabric and moving clothing, and his cheeks burned fiercely. Robin was no longer the one looming behind him, was no longer the one giving his ass an experimental squeeze and aiming a thickened cock against his entrance.

"Grima," he rasped, meaning for the cry to be made in outrage, but it only sounded desperate. The fell dragon sighed with delight as he pushed his tip inside of Chrom, rendering any new words to grunts.

"No need to pine for my name," Grima mocked, resting a hand on either side of the prince's hips and pressing the rest of himself in until he bottomed out. "I'm sure your performance will bring me to completion just fine."

Chrom gulped at the air greedily, the sensation of being opened up proving to nearly overwhelm him. His wrists writhed against his bonds, and neither of them seemed to care that the other could see the struggle behind Chrom's back. While Grima pumped in and out of the prince with mounting vigor, the prince focused on refraining to cry out, or moan. He couldn't bear the idea of surrendering to ecstasy beneath the clout of the greatest enemy of Ylisse. The cock inside of him grazed such sensitive nerves along his walls, ignited fireworks in his core, yet he shakily controlled himself. His breath hitched with every urge to moan, and he bit his lip sharply each time his sex began to build, until blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and he feared he might burst from the pressure inside him.

Grima slowed for a moment to press his stomach against the prince's back and whisper into his ear, "You miserable humans are so predictable at times." By the time Chrom had twisted his head around to glare at the fell dragon, he had straightened up once more and resumed his previous pace. A smirk played at his lips. "You may think that your refusal to succumb will eventually bore me. You think that your silence is an act of rebellion." Grima's hips bucked hard, forcing a whine from Chrom's lips. "But to me, it is merely an additional stimulant."

The thrusts then grew more violent, less precise, and Chrom's mind raced. He tried to focus on anything that didn't apply to him at that moment. He listened for songbirds outside the dungeon walls, but only heard Grima's sighs of pleasure. He attempted to count stones in the dungeon's flooring, but the rock of his body with the pump of the fell dragon's cock kept circling his thoughts back around. His shoulders sagged with the effort of trying to free his wrists, and his teeth sank into his tongue. He begged himself not to climax as he felt the horridly familiar sensation begin to flood his body.

Oh, but it came, and so did he. The arrhythmic buck of the fell dragon's hip and his own fatigue were just enough to send him over the edge, and he orgasmed through gritted teeth, stained and leaking red from one corner. Grima cast a look of appetite down on him, and Chrom knew he wasn't far behind. Was it maybe the fact that his victim had completed first, or perhaps the sight of blood smeared across his mouth? Chrom wasn't sure what sick kink could arouse the fell dragon more, but soon Grima's hips pumped slower, with far more purpose and depth. His snarl of climax was feral, and Chrom shivered at the spread of heat inside of him. Grima panted over him for a small time, and after regaining his composure, he pulled from Chrom's entrance and stood, replacing his clothing and readying to leave like a courtesan after a romp.

"That should satisfy me for now," Grima rumbled as he made for the cell door casually. "If you're at all as good in another realm as you are here, I may just spare you." He shot a look over his shoulder at the prince, one of mock fondness. The prince caught the glimpse only as he began to struggle back onto his knees. "I could keep you as a pet."

"Wait," called the prince, seeing Grima begin to shut and lock the cell door once more. "You mean to simply leave me here?"

"Precisely," he answered, pulling the key from the lock and dropping the key next to Chrom's sword and sheath. The sting of metal on stone echoed through the dungeon spitefully. "Have no fear, I've no plans to return to you."

"How am I supposed to get out of here, then?" Chrom attempted to clamber to his feet, but stumbled. His body hurt. "Nobody comes down here. I've no plans to rot!"

"I've already thought of that, silly human." Grima never stopped moving, but gestured to the dungeon's entrance outside of Chrom's periphery. "Your gloves - I've removed them and dropped them outside this entrance. Someone will find you soon enough." With that, he disappeared from the prince's vision. Chrom debated shouting after the fell dragon, but knew that would do little to help him. Instead, he listened as the dungeon door opened and closed, leaving him alone, genitalia still exposed, and dripping blood on the cell floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Kiran isn't nearly as undignified as she seems in this chapter - she simply acts the same way that I do before I've had my coffee. 
> 
> I also allegedly cried when I learned that there were no plans to put Linus in Heroes. The FOUR FANGS MUST BE REUNITED.
> 
> Finally, I edited this while two nondescript alcoholic drinks deep, so apologies if my eyes and brain failed me.


	3. ...A Deal is Struck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the final chapter. I wanted this to end with a bang, so I included a couple of my own shameful kinks to help me get through the editing process peacefully.
> 
> Also, because I wanted to make this chapter super special, it did indeed take longer to write. M'sorry about that. Please enjoy, though.
> 
> Alternate Chapter Title: Grima Puts on a Show

Kiran dashed through the corridors of Castle Askr, shouting at various Heroes she passed to clear the way, lest they be plowed over. She cared dearly for each of her summons, and had worked so hard to try and make their lives in the castle as comfortable as possible. Right now, however, they could turn to pudding beneath her feet for all she cared. Her legs pumped, her lungs heaved, and her thoughts swam, but none of those things mattered. She had to reach the top of the castle's keep.

Alfonse, Fjorm, and Henry followed with similar speed behind her, their weapons already drawn and their expressions (even Henry's) urgent. The clack of four pairs of plodding feet echoed through Kiran's head as they wound their way up flight after flight of stairs. Kiran could hear panting behind her, could feel her own chest threaten to burst. She didn't care. 

The keep's entrance finally revealed itself as the group met the top of a final staircase, and Kiran found a second wind as she raced for the doors. The great double doors parted, and there she saw him. He peered over his shoulder at her, looming like a stretched shadow in the clearing as though he had been waiting for her to arrive. His face remained emotionless as he turned to face her, but she caught a dangerous glint in his bloody gaze that, if Kiran had only been canine, would have made her hackles raise. She reached into her cloak for her Breidablik and approached him, holding out her free hand to stop her companions as she heard them follow her.

"What petty task have you assigned to me this time, summoner?" he sighed, eying her like a caged lion as she pulled her weapon from her coat and aimed it at him.

" _Grima, you bastard!"_ she snarled, forcing herself to remain focused so she didn't simply pull the trigger on her weapon right then and there. "Don't even pretend to play dumb! Explain yourself!" He blinked with emphasis, and for a moment Kiran seriously considered hurling Breidablik at his head. "Why did you...gh...!" Her words would barely come, she was so livid. A comforting hand met her shoulder, and Kiran glanced behind her to find Fjorm's encouraging stare. She bit back tears of rage she didn't know were threatening her eyes and tried again. "Robin, and Chrom - why did you abuse them!?"

"No harm befell them," Grima replied immediately. "Surely that's all that matters to you."

"Perhaps they weren't harmed physically," Alfonse added, stepping forward and brandishing his Fólkvangr, "but a demon like you couldn't possibly comprehend the psychological damage you may have caused them."

\---

_"Robin, have you seen Chrom today?"_

_The tactician looked up at Kiran from the stack of maps splayed across his desk and pursed his lips. "He...went to see you this morning, I thought."_

_"He did, but I haven't seen him since then. I wanted to follow up on his request."_

_"What request was that?"_

_"I need to banish Grima."_

_The color immediately drained from the tactician's face, and he pushed his chair away from his desk slowly. "Oh, he...he told you, then...?" Kiran's confused silence in response only worsened his demeanor, and his face fell into his palms. "Oh, gods..."_

_As Robin reluctantly told the summoner of his encounter with the fell dragon, Kiran's face soured more and more. She should have sent Grima back the moment he burst forth from her weapon. There was no telling what kind of obscene things he could do to any of the Heroes, freely allowed to wander the castle as he was, and as willing to interact peacefully as most of the other Heroes were. He could even..._

_"Wait," Kiran gasped, her eyes meeting Robin's with horror. "You don't suppose Grima took Chrom and..."_

_Her sentence never finished. She and Robin hurried from the tactician's chamber and from the Ylissan barracks. They searched the corridors at random, unsure of where to begin their search. The castle was just too spacious. They enlisted the reconnaissance aid of various dagger users, such as Kagero and Gaius, and even requested that Feh search from the skies to see if she could spot Chrom from the air, but no leads turned up of the prince's whereabouts until a curious Henry suggested they search the dungeons._

_"But...Alfonse told me the dungeons are rarely used anymore since the Order started," Kiran had argued. The dark mage shrugged._

_"I always trust when the crows tell me something's going down in the castle. I was actually on my way down there now. Wanna join me?"_

_Although initially hesitant, Kiran and Robin agreed to accompany Henry to the dungeons - after all, they were making little progress on their own. They walked in silence, periodically broken by occasional humming from Henry, until the dark mage suddenly raced off in pursuit of something that had obviously caught his eye._

_"What did you find?" Robin asked when he and Kiran had caught up to him. Henry smiled over his shoulder and lifted a hand from which dangled a pair of gloves._

_"These are Chrom's, right?" The smile broadened. "Then the crows weren't lying to me!"_

_The group hurried inside the dungeon, the heavy door heaving open with a groan, and were immediately greeted with a dreadfully familiar voice that called out, "Hello? Who's there? ...Is it you, you monster? Are you back for leftovers?"_

_They crept carefully down the dungeon's hall even as they listened to the prince, for fear of engaging some sort of trap or ambush. Only when Chrom came into view inside of his cell did anyone react. Robin dove for the prince's confiscated sword and sheath, picking up the key and fumbling it in its lock so he could open the cell door. Henry examined the smears of blood on his mouth with curiosity while Kiran worked to free him of the binds on his wrists. Robin cupped the prince's face in his hands, offering him comforting words, but Chrom's gaze was unfocused and milky. He could barely bring himself to look at anyone, only managing to stare forward numbly as they worked to help support his weight and guide him from the dungeon, muttering, "Oh, thank the gods...thank the gods..."_

_\---_

Kiran's grip around her weapon tightened in frustration. Seeing the prince stripped down and exposed in the aftermath, hearing of the tactician's escapade in the gardens - she could stand by idly no more. "You will answer for your sins," she called to the fell dragon. The floor beneath her seemed to vibrate as Grima chuckled deeply.

"You do not command me, summoner," he said, taking slow, ambling steps toward her. Even as Kiran's hand remained stretched out to still the three comrade behind her, she heard their feet shuffle closer to her. The fell dragon was perhaps within arm's length when he finally stopped, and he stared down his nose at her, lazy conceit brimming in his eyes. "I suppose I could humor you, however. You ask me _why_ I... _abused_ the tactician and the prince." He gestured to the summoner with a hand, like a teacher would to a student. "I will reply to your question with another question: When one has an intense burning desire, does one not usually, in turn, seek out relief?"

"Normally, yes," Kiran replied warily.

"Then that should answer your question, as that is exactly the course of action I took." 

"So you ravaged two of the Order's most veteran of Heroes because you've had an abnormally high sex drive," Kiran spat. The fell dragon merely simpered with satisfaction in response. Breidablik's aim lifted into Grima's spiteful gaze, and Kiran bared her teeth as she declared, "For that, you're no longer welcome here. Return from where you came!"

White, hot light engulfed the fell dragon as Kiran pulled the trigger on her weapon. Her companions watched in awe as the strange magic seemed to pick apart their enemy's body, dissolving Grima's human form into firmamental particles, where they would no doubt whisk away into the breeze and carry the fell dragon back to his own world and his own timeline. That is, if the particles would dissipate properly...but they didn't. They remained as a whole, at the most making Grima's form waver like a watery reflection. Kiran swore under her breath as the magic gradually failed, and Grima remained untouched. He flexed his fingers with a curious quirk of an eyebrow before fixing a wild gaze upon Kiran as he lunged forward and grabbed the collar of her cloak. 

"I _told_ you," he hissed, drawing her face closer to his until their noses nearly touched. "You do not command me! Do you humans never learn!?"

"Unhand her!" Alfonse snapped, falling into an offensive stance with his blade. Fjorm and Henry followed suit on either side of him, lance slicing through the air and tome pages flipping rapidly. 

"If you wish to fight me, you may try," Grima growled excitedly, settling eyes on the summoner. "But I doubt the consequences would rest in your favor. If word spread that the Askran and Niflheiman leaders were at battle with a fellow...'Hero,' I'm sure there would be others to follow suit."

"What will it take to make you leave?" Kiran managed to squeak from the constricting hold around her collar. Grima's eyes lidded contemptuously, but he remained silent. The summoner dared to wrap a hand over the fell dragon's, tugging just enough fabric loose so she could more easily breath. "You have little business here - I know this. You want to regain your former powers so that you can conquer Ylisse." She hazarded a glance toward her allies, who gawked at her words. She knew that allowing Grima to exist at all was a grave danger for whomever he was near. But the fell dragon was right - fighting him here would only stir social chaos. The Order of Heroes could very well crumble if word got out that a Hero was slaughtered by his brethren, regardless of that Hero's moral allegiance. She could only pick her poison, for now. "You've found no leads to restoring yourself...not even here, having access to a variety of Robins. Would it not make sense to return to your own timeline so you can achieve your goals?"

Grima's pupils froze on her, seeming to consider her words. Molten fire and destruction pierced through her very being as the fell dragon silently searched her, and Kiran felt unease begin to pool in her core. She knew very little of this demon's vessel, but could sense a desire in the bloody stare. What would he possibly want from her in exchange for his departure?

"Give us an answer, Grima," Alfonse commanded, breaking the mounting silence. The three allies had not moved any closer, but stood their ground regardless, their weapons ready to sink into the fell dragon at any moment. "You heard Kiran's argument. What will you do?" Grima ignored the Askran prince for a long moment, his eyes set firm on the summoner with such intensity that Kiran briefly feared he was sucking the life force from her veins. Finally, his free hand came to the summoner's chin, and he stroked up and down her jaw with a thumb.

"I will leave this place," he breathed, but before relief could flood Kiran or the others, he added, "with two conditions in mind." Before Kiran could react, she was being spun around, Grima's arms locking around the front of her waist and trapping her arms to her sides. The fell dragon's chin rested on one of her shoulders, and she could feel his sneer, even with her gaze glued to her allies.

"One, you will all drop your weapons." Alfonse and Fjorm exchanged disgusted looks, but held onto their sword and lance tightly. Henry's tome hit the floor with a soft thud, and he almost beamed in response to the incredulous glares that the royals shot him. Grima's sneer spread impossibly wider, splitting open to reveal teeth. "I'm aware that the Plegian can cast hexes without the use of a tome, but he isn't my concern. You two...unarm yourselves."

"What is your second condition, demon?" Alfonse called. He squeezed the hilt of his sword hard enough to make the leather of the hilt creak against his gloves before kneeling and placing his sword on the floor. Fjorm sighed and followed suit. The fell dragon straightened and pushed Kiran forward a couple of steps, all the while maintaining his hold on her.

"For my second condition...I will first use the summoner to satiate my needs...and the three of you will watch. Only afterward will I leave."

"Use her..." Alfonse muttered, his brow furrowed. "What do you m--"

"He's gonna feel her up," Henry blurted casually. The fell dragon cackled.

"Oh, I'll do more than _that_ , Plegian," he snorted, keeping one arm tightly secured around Kiran's waist while the other dove into her robes, gloved fingers prodding at her clothing in search of any exposed skin they may explore. Kiran shuddered in spite of the shock that played across Alfonse's and Fjorm's faces. They made to advance on the fell dragon, but the summoner shook her head violently to still them once more.

"You don't have to do this, Kiran!" shouted Alfonse, his expression twisting into an unreadable mix of confusion and mortification. "We can fight him! It's four against one!"

"I-It'll be easier this way," said the summoner, her voice barely audible as she struggled not to gasp from the fell dragon's fleeting touches. "Just, please...don't think less of me for this." She heard her waist guard fall to the floor as Grima's hands made short work of it, and she held her breath. Fingers slithered beneath her tunic and ascended, teasing along her flesh, dipping into her belly button, sliding between her cleavage. His movements lifted her top, exposing her midriff and breasts as his hand emerged from the collar of her tunic, where his fingers wrapped around her throat. They squeezed, and Kiran's mouth fell open for breath. She felt her blood pool, struggling for circulation, and watched as Fjorm covered her horrified face with her hands, bowing behind Alfonse so she didn't have to witness Grima's cruel actions.

"Remember," the fell dragon hummed. His other hand finally roamed, playing along her chest. "You must _all_ watch. That includes _you_ , princess. If you don't, I'm afraid my hand might slip." His index finger and thumb found one of her nipples and tweaked it sharply, inducing a surprised cry of pain from the summoner. "This body will surely remain warm enough for me to assuage my needs - dead or alive."

Fjorm shakily withdrew from behind the prince and brought her hands away from her face, though the hands did remain in front of her, wringing helplessly. Kiran mouthed to her an apology, as well as a prayer for safety from the gods, and allowed the fell dragon to begin tugging her cloak from her neck. Grima's pelvis ground against her ass as he undressed her carelessly, tossing aside her garments like they were dirty rags, and as her bottoms peeled from her sweating skin, she felt a thick erection press against her that practically throbbed with hunger. So distracted was she in the fell dragon's member that she missed his gesture for her to lie on her back, and was instead thrown to the stone floor.

"Spread your legs, summoner," Grima growled, fumbling to free himself of his coat and bottoms. Kiran glanced in the direction of her allies, partially due to the mortification of exposing her genitalia to her peers, and partially to verify that they were still watching and that, by correlation, she was still allowed to live. They looked on, varying degrees of repugnance and concern weighing on their features. Kiran resisted the urge to screw her eyes shut and instead situated herself onto her back, lying down and fixing her eyes on the ceiling. Her thighs stung with the sudden cold of the stone floor as her legs parted and her vulva opened to her audience.

A greedy hand fanned open on her pelvis and travelled up her stomach, but she remained staring upward. The hand reached her shoulder and the dark silhouette of the fell dragon pierced her vision, but but her gaze was unwavering. Finally, she felt a needing cock press inside of her, and she gasped. She was far from dripping, but was wet enough to prevent unnecessary friction from the invading length, a fact for which she was both thankful and ashamed. Grima manipulated her legs, pushing them back against the summoner's torso so they could hook over his shoulders. He gave an experimental thrust and sighed, pleased.

"I've grown used to the constriction of the prince and the tactician," he murmured as his hips began to move and his hands wandered her abdomen. "This should be tight enough, at least." He pumped in and out of her, and as Kiran grew more used to the stroke of his length, she found her breath hitching with the pull of his downstrokes, provoking moans that she actually clapped a hand over her mouth to stop. Grima merely grinned in arrogant amusement at the sight of her. He knew how good he felt to Kiran, and gods it pissed her off. She bit a finger each time he would slam his hips against her, burying his cock to the hilt and hitting a dead end inside her. His pace seemed to change at random, going from leisurely and almost intimate to ravaging and animalistic in the blink of an eye. It was dizzying, but Kiran would have been lying to say it didn't arouse her, at least a little.

Smooth, gloved hands molded along her torso, pinching her supple flesh, squeezing and kneading handfuls of her breasts. They occasionally dropped to her pelvis, dipping between bucking hips so they could duck between Kiran's legs and tease at her clitoris, if only to coax a momentary tightening of her walls around the fell dragon's member. Grima arched over the summoner and gripped her hips in his gloved fingers with enough force to induce bruises. Kiran felt herself bouncing harder against his hips as the fell dragon picked up even more speed. His pleased sneer had fallen, and instead her bore through her with his gaze- he was focusing. She had little time to react before a series of heady moans were pouring from his lips, and she felt ice form along her spine at the warmth that filled her. 

"A-Ahhh, what a... an impactful way to end my short time in Askr," Grima drawled, his voice dripping with lust. He pulled from the summoner, leaving a hot trail of embarrassment in her wake. Kiran propped herself on her elbows and looked about wildly for her weapon, where it lay resting in the bundle of her cloak on the floor. She crawled toward it, ignoring the deafening silence of her allies nearby. Grima also seemed to ignore them, instead taking his time to gather his own clothing. When Kiran reached her Breidablik, she immediately drew it from her cloak and fired it at the fell dragon. He burst into a similar blinding light that had earlier consumed him, but this time, he seemed to fade far more willingly. She could hear his chuckling the entire time his body dissipated, swore she heard him call to her as he drifted into the castle keep's air:

"I suppose I owe you some sort of gratitude for the use of your body. I'm sure we'll meet again...and I dearly look forward to it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight chapter ending cop-out is slight.  
> To everyone who stuck with me and was patient with my random absences until the end of this catharsis, I thank you. This has made me hungry to write more for Heroes (of the 18+ variety, of course), so please look forward to more projects in the future along the same lines! Now I plan to finish my Niles/Leo story and begin a flash fiction project I've had on my mind for a while.  
> Stay tuned, and thank you again for reading~


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